


Hand-Holding

by Moldie_Feelings



Category: I Love Yoo (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Episode 117, Haphephobia, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kind of Canon Compliant, Kinda, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moldie_Feelings/pseuds/Moldie_Feelings
Summary: Although it was probably silly, hands are what scared him..Because hands are terrifying. They can do so much, the first weapon of mankind.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Hand-Holding

**Author's Note:**

> Yeong-Gi always looks so uncomfortable when someone touches him, plus his reactions to being near or having to interact with Mrs. Hirahara. Big Yikes.  
> Sorry about the title, I kept blanking.

Although it was probably silly, hands are what scared him.

Hands can trail, or clench into fists and move fast, or be traced down your back. Hands can clasp over your mouth. Hands can grip your wrist so tight it hurts and put it on the burner in a moment of pure unadulterated anger.

So he doesn’t like holding hands.

Alyssa’s hands were dainty with long nails, an emotional flashback with every playful touch until he just couldn’t handle it and stared ahead. He wasn’t sure if she noticed or didn’t care.

Kousuke’s punches were powerful sometimes, all rough knuckles.

Dieter’s hands were soft, a _come here come here_. Gentle. Being startled or scared of Dieter is embarrassing.

Soushi moved without thinking, a hard clasp that made him think _danger danger boiling water_ but nothing happened.

Of course it wouldn’t.

Nana’s hands made him feel guilty for freezing. She would never.

Mrs. Hirahara’s hands started it all, starting with hair.

Carding her hands through it if he was still and quiet ( _as you should be, Kid_ ) and yanking if he was out of line.

Bruising grasps on his wrists and arms.

Trailing down his jaw and shoulder and back.

Thigh.

No one believes a bastard. ( _So shush_.)

Pants.

A moment of bravery and a squeaky prepubescent _get away from me_ and Fire Hurts and he doesn’t like to cook, especially with other people.

( _You look just like your father, except for some features, of course. You look like that skank. But you look just like him when I get to see your face so closely. Don’t look at me like that, Kid. This is the closest thing to motherly love you’re ever going to get._ )

Stiff as a board.

He doesn’t really like touch. It burns and quiets and silences and causes fear. Only kissed his girlfriend once and had a panic attack soon after. She was offended by it. They never kissed again.

He prefers being the one to grab other’s wrists and pat their backs. Safe. In control of the situation. It won’t go awry.

He’s tired.

Mrs. Hirahara had been away for a while. He was coping a little. Seeing her had shattered it, and he couldn’t speak and Kousuke just watched.

He was so scared for Shin-Ae when she fell. He pulled as hard as he could on Kousuke because _please be okay you two_ but then she touched his back and he wasn’t a teenager anymore, just scared and much too small for a world and situation so big.

Because hands are terrifying. They can do so much, the first weapon of mankind.

The stress of court was more than that of thinking where Mrs. Hirahara was. The interview was fine until he saw her and all air left him.

( _You look just like your father. I wonder if you’re like him, too. Jumping at the first opportunity. Shut up. No one will believe you. You know that, right?_ )

He didn’t freeze for once, instead _cowering_ like some kind of abused animal, still too scared to speak, but moving back. A small victory.

He’s so tired, music in his ears, trying to think about a future that isn’t fear and antagonization and hardship without end. He’s an awful person. This is cosmic punishment. For tarnishing a marriage, being scared, being weak.

Shin-Ae’s hands are careful, comforting, a touch just light enough to let him pull away if he needs to. He doesn’t want to, though.

For once, hands feel safe.

It doesn’t have to be scary.

_This is… nice. I like this._


End file.
